The Next Generation Tournament
by insert-original-name-here
Summary: "I'm pleased to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this very year!" James and Dominique have entered the Triwizard Tournament, but what will happen when an opposition group from the past reforms, and creates a divide between the students of Hogwarts, including Scorpius and Rose? A joint fic between myself, ParticularlyGoodFINDer44 and our friend.
1. Ginny 1

**A/N - So, this story is a collaboration between me, my awesome friend_ ParticularlyGoodFINDer44_ (go read her story/ies, they're epic) and one of our other awesome friends. This first chapter's by _ParticularlyGoodFINDer44_ and as far as our plans go at the moment I'll be writing Dominique, Scorpius and Rose, she'll write Ginny, James and Teddy and our friend will write an OC. Next chapter will almost certainly be up this weekednd :) But if you're interested, I am still writing my other story. Slowly.**

**Disclaimer - None of us own Harry Potter. If we ever gain ownership of it we'll tell you. **

**Here:**

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"One copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells Grade 5' please" said Ginny, handing over the silver Sickles. Albus had managed to forget to buy his copy, and the day before he was due to leave for Hogwarts, he asked Ginny to get him one. Ginny didn't really see why he couldn't come himself to get it, but he had told her he had some 'important stuff' to do, and she wasn't likely to get any more information than that. She was surprised: forgetting the book was something James would be more likely to do. The shop owner handed over the book, and she walked out of Flourish and Blotts into Diagon Alley.

It was quiet that morning, just the way Ginny liked it. No crowds of Quidditch fans jostling to get an autograph, or even a glimpse of the famous Holyhead Harpies player, sports reporter, and of course Harry Potter's wife. She crossed the street, and walked into the Daily Prophet.

"Morning" Ginny said to the receptionist, whose name continuously escaped her. She was a short, rather round witch, whose laugh that set Ginny's teeth on edge, amiable and constant nattering and gossiping really got on Ginny's nerves sometimes. She was one of those people who you really don't want to talk to, because she would make you sit there and talk about nothing for hours, and Ginny wasn't in the mood today.

"Morning, Ginny" she gushed. "There is someone to see you from the Ministry! He is waiting for you in the office. He just walked in without me telling him to go and wait for you or anything! He looks very official. I-"

"Thanks, I'll see you later" Ginny interrupted. She really wasn't in the mood today. She went in through the doors labelled Ginny Potter: Sports Reporter. Inside- sitting at _her _desk, Ginny noticed with annoyance- was a tall young man, with neat robes, and a rather fixed smile.

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley!" the man said energetically. "My name is Elias Gudgeon, and I am head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Now, I am here to give you a job preposition. I'm sure you will have heard of the Triwizard Tournament. Yes, of course, you were there during the last tournament, with that tragic death, very tragic." Not pausing for an answer, he continued. "Anyway, the Department of Magical Games and Sports have decided to give the Tournament another try; we have decided that there is no threat to students, now that the war is over, so it will be completely safe for all involved. The tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year, and as a sports reporter, we would like you to report on the whole thing. So what do you think?" Finally he stopped, and Ginny awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Hogwarts? Did you say the tournament is at Hogwarts?" _James_

"Yes, yes."

Oh no, of course James would enter! He could get seriously hurt, or worse. Ginny couldn't bear to lose another person she loved; she lost Fred, she wasn't about to let her son put himself into danger! But how could she stop him? She would have to talk to Harry.

"Mrs Potter?" Gudgeon asked. Ginny jumped. She hadn't realised she had been staring into space for the last minute, a worried frown on her face.

"Yes, um, of course I will do it!" she decided. Anything to keep close to James, and try to stop him doing anything stupid.

"Wonderful! The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, and I would like you to be there on the first for the selection of the school champions. You will be working with another reporter from the Daily Prophet, who will be covering the stories of the students, whilst you will be covering the challenges." He looked at a pocket watch in his robes. "Now I really must go: I have a busy schedule. Good day!" He left before Ginny could answer, leaving the office quiet.

This was big! The Triwizard Tournament! Ginny smiled to herself. She was worried about James though. She spent the rest of the day absent-mindedly attempting to write a column about the upcoming game between Puddlemere United and the Tutshill Tornados. Unable to concentrate, she signed out early (avoiding the receptionist's eager questioning), and apparated into the kitchen, causing a very startled Harry to drop a kettle of water on the floor.

"Sorry dear," Ginny said, cleaning up the mess with a wave of her wand. "Did you have a good day at the auror office?"

"A normal day really," answered Harry. "We are trying to chase down a guy who has been setting fire to a load of Muggle buildings, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to track down his location. What about you?"

"I had a visit from the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." Ginny filled Harry in about her visit from Elias Gudgeon, and the Triwizard Tournament. When she was finished explaining her worries about James, Harry looked unperturbed.

"I don't think that you should worry about James" He said after a pause. "He needs some freedom to make his own decisions. If you forbid him from entering, he will only want to do it more. He's nearly seventeen, Ginny. And from what you have said, there won't be any danger for him anyway!"

Ginny sighed. There was obviously not going to be any help coming from Harry.

"Can you just tell him not to do anything reckless then? He probably won't listen to me."

"Alright," Harry conceded "but he probably won't listen to me either, you know James."

Of course the Potters left late the next morning: James overslept, and Albus didn't wake him up when he was supposed to, and then five minutes into the journey to King's Cross, Lily realised that she had forgotten her wand, and they had to go back and get it. And so, the Potters found themselves at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 at five minutes to eleven.

"Quick James, you first!" Harry said urgently. "You next, Al! Quickly!" as Albus disappeared through the barrier, Lily following behind, Ginny grabbed Harry's arm.

"Remember what I said about talking to James" she said.

"Okay okay, I will love! If he hasn't already got on the train by now, of course!" Harry answered, slightly exasperatedly. "Now let's go!" They walked through the barrier together, into the mass of students, parents and cats that was Platform 9 and 3/4.

Ginny spotted her children chatting to their cousins, who were standing with her brothers and sisters in law. Ginny rolled her eyes. They had been with the whole Weasley family for most of the summer, yet it looked like Albus and Lily hadn't seen Rose and Hugo for years. James and his best friend Fred (George's son) were looking suspiciously like they were planning something already and the train hadn't even left! But then they were James and Fred, so that wasn't really anything new.

"Have a great year, sweetheart" said Ginny, pulling Lily into a tight hug. "Enjoy yourself."

"Bye Mum" muttered Lily sadly. "I'll write soon!"

As Ginny said goodbye to Albus, she gave Harry a meaningful look. He nodded slightly, and Ginny watched from the corner of her eye as he pulled James aside just as he was about to board the Hogwarts Express.

As the young Potters boarded the train, Harry pulled Ginny into a tight hug.

"They'll be alright," he whispered. "You'll see." They stood there waving with the other parents long after the train had left, and then apparated to the Leaky Cauldron for a celebratory pint of Butterbeer with the Weasleys.

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**There you go. All reviews are _very_ welcome and we'll go to all of us. Virtual cookies if you review :)**


	2. Dominique 1

**A/N - Hey, here's my first chapter. It's basically a Dominique-introductory chapter. We have a couple more chapters written and we just need to edit them so they'll be up in the next few days and we'll write some more soon too.**

**Thanks to _purple sky always _for reviewing _ParticularlyGoodFINDer44_'s copy and _S. _ for reviewing mine. Also to _S. _ again and _cheakymaid _for following. More reviews are very much appreciated and merit bucketloads of virtual cookies :)  
**

**Disclaimer - Still don't own**

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Every time Dominique visited home for any holiday, it hit her almost as a surprise that her bedroom in her old house was still there, untouched from the last time. The end of this summer had been no different, and, as per usual, the first day had been spent getting used to the fact that she was in England again. She could almost come to regret having left by the end, once she'd stopped treating Louis like some awkward stranger and started affectionately bawling insults at him from time to time, when she'd visited the others and remembered how much closer they were with each other than she was with any of them. She could be just starting to build that closeness, laughing like a drunken pirate with Fred and James at their antics, or swapping books with Rose (after whatever solemn promises she had to make to keep them safe from all harm), wondering vaguely what colour Teddy's hair would be this time, then she would go back to France and it would take a few days to re-acclimatise there too, and start shouting raucously in French instead of English.

Only this time had been slightly different, because on her return to Aunt Gabrielle's house she didn't have time to remember she was in France before she remembered that this would be her last year at school – at any school – before she tried to forget that after school she would never go back either to Hogwarts' looming towers or to Beauxbatons' elegant, sweeping staircases.

Because the two schools were just about as different as any two magical schools could be. Where Beauxbatons was a palace, Hogwarts had been almost a fortress, where in France everything was carefully, neatly beautiful, the Scottish castle had a sort of strong, safe chaos to it. And she could barely believe she hadn't seen it since she was thirteen. When she first left the idea that she'd go back there one day had still been nestling somewhere at the back of her mind, but now she was used to missing it, and had resolved to welcome the fact that she would have one year left at its elegant fairytale counterpart before leaving them both behind.

Looking back though, it seemed only fitting that she had taken her delicate clunkiness to both: her tall, slender pixie's figure contrasted sharply with the gloriously heavy dragonhide boots that had once been her dad's and were now her standard footwear, just as Hogwarts' powerful presence would have stood out against the other school's grace. Dad said that as a toddler she used to stomp around with her feet nearly falling out of those boots as they reached nearly up to the mud-plastered hems of the frilly lace skirts and dresses she picked out to wear.

Her face could have been a pixie's too, with its sharp, even features and large, pretty eyes. It wouldn't, people assured her, be idle boasting if she claimed beauty, especially with the veela descent she could claim, though she was sure her sister Victoire had inherited even more of her mother's beauty than she herself had. Dom's hair, Victoire used to say, bore strong resemblance to a carotene-deprived carrot, but the younger girl had long since given up wishing the short, straight, choppy locks that fell about her face were like her sister's silvery blonde tresses. Indeed, she had decided instead, at the end of her second and last year at Hogwarts, to dye the tips a deep emerald green which reached nearly halfway up to her roots. Unfortunately, Hogwarts hadn't been as impressed as she had by the change and, against her hopes, Beauxbatons had been even less so; after a while, it had been simpler for herself, her teachers and any friends who were embarrassed by it to change it back to pure pale orange. There had been those who had speculated the whole change was to represent her controversial Hogwarts house, but the Slytherin remained adamant that she just liked green.

"Dominique!" quickly, she turned and realised Aunt Gabrielle's daughter was looking expectantly at her, her broomstick hovering before her. Dom commanded her own broom to do the same "Come on," she was speaking French, something that Dominique had only just got used to after her visit to England, and they stood with Poppée and her mum in her aunt's large front garden, ready to fly to school. Gabrielle had always said that they were lucky, living close enough that they could fly straight there without needing to use a portkey, floo powder or apparition to get closer first.

Poppée, it seemed, was waiting with increasing impatience, so it was with a hasty realisation that she had been holding them up, lost in her own thoughts, that Dominique flung herself at her aunt by way of saying goodbye. "Have fun, my darling. Don't do anything rash," _Like that's going to happen_ her eyes seemed to roll of their own accord _Have I ever gone a full year without doing anything rash? _But, conscious that Poppée lived her life in constant worry of being late, she only shouted a quick "Bye, love you," tapped herself with a d_isillusionment_ charm and followed her now equally-disillusioned cousin into the sky, her powder blue school robes (imitating the starker blue of the southern French sky) flapping behind her in the wind.

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The Outer Grounds were full of pupils of varying ages all moving in the general direction of the school proper when the two witches flew over the gilded, marble-and-glass wall surrounding them, with the tall figure of their headmistress standing among them, waiting for the last of them to leave, and for the arrival of the newest pupils in the vast carriages that would carry them. Dominique soared over them, waving occasionally to friends and acquaintances until at length she spotted a boy in her year, Jacques, and alighted beside him with all the grace of a dying swan, followed closely by her cousin, who landed with considerably higher levels of decorum at her side and was joined almost immediately by one or other of her own friends. The four of them kept walking in a small group past various magical topiaries, flowerbeds and copses.

"Maxime looks happy," even after spending twice as much time in France as she had in Britain, the Weasley still hadn't completely lost the more Hogwarts culture of talking about teachers by use of only their surname, but her companions were well enough used to it.

"Good day, Miss Weasley, I'm absolutely wonderful, thank you very much for asking. And how's the day treating you?"

Obviously, Jacques felt the need to offer pointers on her lack of manners. Dominique felt the need to offer him an amiable punch in the shoulder.

"Incidentally, nice landing, Dom," Poppée threw a grin over her shoulder at Dominique, who returned it impishly.

"I could be as graceful as you if it was worth bothering with. Just I don't choose to waste my time on it,"

"Sure you're not just scared to try in case you're not good enough?" the boy at her side cut in.

"Of course not. We Weasleys are an honourable, daring and hard-working family."

Poppée chose this moment to be overwhelmed by a violent coughing fit with sounded remarkably like it contained the word 'Slytherin', at which point the older girl had to restrain from pushing her into a nearby Flutterby bush and settled instead for menacingly ruffling her otherwise tame hair. The friend who had joined them gave a tinkling laugh, which Dom suspected brought her dangerously close to making intimate acquaintance with the Flutterby bush herself but, whether because of her cousin's kind spirit or because of her preoccupation with her hair, she survived.

Eventually, it was with all four of them laughing and Poppée's hair only marginally less perfect than it had been before that they reached the school's central atrium. Dominique trailed her slender fingers through the water of one of the two sprawling, chattering fountains that lined the path to the Dining Chamber. To get to any other door later she would have to cross one of the low bridges carved into the stone of the fountains.

When she arrived, the Chamber itself, though Dominique was used to it now, was no less impressive than when she had first seen it in her third year of school. Its sweeping ceiling of pure, glinting glass drew her eye, now frosted, now stained, now adorned with delicate bubbles, even at times she was sure it was spun, but constantly it was as shifting as the sea which showed out of the arching windows, never once staying the same for more than a few seconds. As they walked, the group passed the matching pillars that lined the room, twisting gracefully as they climbed to kiss the soaring heights.

But in the centre were the tables, seven concentric part-circles of powder-blue marble, twining again with the breathtaking glass, the foremost ones completing more of their own arc each time so that they formed a wide, curved, V-shape opening out towards the doors through which they had entered. For the first time, Dominique took her place at the rearmost table with Jacques, beside a girl her age Mélissa, with whom she exchanged a smile, leaving Poppée and her friend, both two years their junior, to join their own classmates two tables ahead.

At length, the doors behind them closed as all of the tables except the foremost, which would seat the new, younger pupils filled with the last of their occupants, all looking expectantly towards the last table, raised and more magnificent still than the rest which stood proudly in facing them at the far end of the room. It was only a matter of minutes after that until a smaller door opened at the other side of the hall and teachers swept in, taking their seats at the higher table, then less time still before the doors behind them swung back open to reveal their vast headmistress casting a shadow over the amassed group of small children in powder-blue robes behind her. As one, the student body stood. In almost-perfect unison, the new group began to walk forward, and spread into a line down the central aisle split into the curves of the tables. The rest of the students watching, the youngest of them turned neatly, splitting their line in two and filing down both halves of the first table, standing waiting, with varying degrees of confidence, before their seats. Having never been a first year here, Dom had to assume that they were all instructed on the proper way to enter the hall before the doors opened. It was all very precise and regimental.

Meanwhile Madame Maxime hadn't checked her pace, and walked with long, sure strides onto the dais, turning on her heel to address her students. "Welcome –" she turned now to the new arrivals "– to l'Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons,"

This Dominique _had_ heard before, more than once, but she listened anyway. Her attention, she thought was kept fairly well between staring hopefully at her plate, where she would later be able to find food. Not that it mattered. Every word of it was almost identical to what she had heard before.

"...Shortly we will eat, and then you will be able to return to your dormitories or to leisure time. New students will be shown where to go by prefects... Classes begin tomorrow. You will return here between seven o'clock and eight o'clock for breakfast before... I wish you all a pleasant year at school. Remember that this Academy has upheld a sterling reputation among wizarding schools for many years, and you are each expected to make every effort to keep that reputation as long as you are at school here. And finally – this has been kept to the end and will probably pique the interest of many of you, particularly the older students," _scratch that. Every word of it except this was identical to what she had heard before. _"This year the Governing bodies of the countries involved have made the eventual decision that, twenty-four years after the last attempt the Triwizard Tournament will once again be reinstated," she allowed a collective murmur to sweep the hall once before she continued. "This decision is based on the fact that the tragic death at the last Tournament was due only to the work of – outside forces and not the dangers of the Tournament itself. However, the same safety precautions as were in place twenty-four years ago will remain. Therefore students aged seventeen and above only will be eligible to compete. The Tournament this year will take place –" Dominique was almost certain the headmistress sniffed a little here "– at Hogwarts and we will be unable to take every one of our older students, so anybody of age who does wish to compete will please put their name forward to the head of their year before this time next week, and we will between us create a shortlist of those who we believe to be the most suitable for the competition."

Dominique barely remembered sitting down to the dinner she had been looking forward to, her mind whizzing only with questions. _Put your name forward to your head of year._ The Triwizard Tournament would certainly be exciting, and she couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't leaping at the chance, but somehow now, the thought of going back to Hogwarts, of leaving Beauxbatons behind forever just two months into her last year there wasn't appealing. It would be nice going back there, and seeing all of her cousins, but weren't they all so much closer than her? And she would be the enemy if she went now. Anyway, hadn't she left Hogwarts for a _reason_ those years ago? She only wished the tournament was at her school.

It seemed only minutes later that they were standing to leave the way they had come, a selection of prefects leading the younger tables first, which would finally spill out to a whole procession ending with Dominique's own table and Madame Maxime and turn into a meandering gaggle within minutes of leaving the Chamber. As it did, she found the tall headmistress catching up with her, and let the crowd part in a wave around them.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley. I don't believe those boots comply with the school regulations. You will _please_ change them." That was the reprimand Dominique was always given "I would like to say that I'm hoping you're seriously considering entering the tournament. You would prove a real asset to the school if you were to become our champion."

"Er... Thank you, Madame Maxime," she garbled, and watched the teacher sweep away, before turning to Jacques.

"They won't like it if you do," he grinned "Hogwarts will be able to claim you as partially theirs if you win and if you don't they can say we ruined you."

She hadn't thought of that. Hogwarts wouldn't do that though, as far as she could remember.

"Oh come on, you're not seriously considering not entering, are you? It was a joke!"

Poppée chose that moment to bound back to them, her silver hair flowing in excitement. "What? Dom's thinking of not entering? But you are _so_ lucky getting to go. I've always wanted to go to England,"

"Well I'll ask Mum and Dad to have you for some time next holiday. You'd probably be able to go at Christmas if you want,"

"I mean I wanted to go to Hogwarts. Even if it's just to see it. And if I went this Christmas you'd still be at Hogwarts for the Yule Ball so there'd be no point."

"If I even go," Dom hadn't meant for her mutter to sound as dark as it did.

"So you really are planning not to go?" Apparently her cousin had hoped she wouldn't sound so dark too.

Jacques turned to them "Max- Madame Maxime just practically said that you'd be on the shortlist if you put your name forward. And this is just the kind of reckless thing you'd like doing," _don't do anything reckless_ she smirked. _That_ must have been what her aunt had meant. "Come on, it's not the kind of chance you'd just pass up,"

She sighed. It was true. She'd never want to miss a chance like this. "Alright. I'll put my name forward if you do too. It'd be more fun if you were there."

"No,"

"Why not?" Poppée demanded, once again astounded at someone not even trying to go to Hogwarts.

"I might get picked if I did. I said it's the kind of reckless thing you would do, not me. I don't even want to compete. I'd be awful,"

"Now that makes less sense than me," Dominique said "How can you not want to get picked? It's probably not even dangerous" her friend looked unconvinced "Just come along and don't even put your name forward if you want. Chuck a blank piece of paper in that cup; no-one's going to check you've written on it."

"That would just be dishonourable," he shot back "Even if I do get on their shortlist then I'd just be taking the place of someone who really wants to go and actually will put their name in. It'd-"

"Excuse me, no loitering in the corridor. Your rooms, the library, the grounds or the common rooms until bedtime please," a shrill voice was calling, attached to a witch called Madame Horklump advancing through the atrium, so the three of them chose that moment to disperse to their respective dormitories with hasty goodnights.

Dom's dormitory was the same one she'd had every year, nestled in the high-reaching East Wing Tower, but the girl she shared it with hadn't arrived yet, so she set to unpacking her stuff – which had been sent to her room ahead of her with the school's transport – alone. She wasn't surprised that she was still pondering the Triwizard Tournament some time later, even when a vaguely familiar owl rapped on the – this time normal – window, staring at her. Curious, she tore the window open and took the letter from its leg, leaving it to hoot triumphantly, notice the lack of readily consumable food or drink in her room and fly away.

The letter had been rolled clumsily or hastily – probably both – into a scroll, so it unrolled with bright enthusiasm, and after a minute she recognised the handwriting, and hence the owl, as her cousin James', and read the letter quickly.

With a sigh, she rolled it up again. _There we go, Miss I-don't-fit-in-with-my-family,_ she berated herself. _You _like_ Hogwarts _and _England and you know it._ Already James was writing to her about the tournament. He must've sent it almost as soon as he'd heard about it, since her term started within days of his and owls had to fly. And Jacques was right: Dominique never passed up opportunities like this. It was at Hogwarts though. She had left Hogwarts for a reason. "Oh, shut up," she muttered quietly, before glancing around, glad that no-one else was in the room. So what if she'd left it for a reason? She could go back for a reason too.

Hastily, she began to pen her reply, and the next morning found her up before breakfast to find her head of year in his office. To her surprise, it also found her bumping into Jacques – almost literally – going the same direction on the way, who told her when they arrived together that he _would _be putting his name in the cup if he got picked because otherwise it just wouldn't be fair.

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	3. James 1

**A/N - Here's James' first chapter, this one by ParticularlyGoodFINDer again. Hope you like it :)**

**Thanks to S. for another review. You're awesome and you get virtual cookies.**

**Disclaimer - Same as before.**

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"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting hat proclaimed. James Potter II watched as an excited looking Frances Cooley clambered off the stool and made her way to the Ravenclaw table.

This was James' sixth sorting ceremony, and so far, it seemed to be pretty much the same as last year, and the year before, and the year before, and the year before, and- well, James couldn't really remember any further back.

He was certain he missed the ceremony in his third year because he and his cousin Fred had been caught trying to push first years into the lake, and their start of term feast had consisted of sitting in the headmaster's office, being lectured on setting 'bad examples for the first years', two weeks of scrubbing the trophy room, and going to bed with empty stomachs.

Speaking of which... James' Stomach let out a gurgle, as he gazed longingly at his plate. It will be over soon, he told himself, as Louise Pinches was sorted into Slytherin.

He glanced across the table at his cousin, Fred. Fred was James' uncle George's son, named after George's late twin, and also being the same age, they had been best friends for longer than James could remember.

Fred grinned at him. He was also eyeing up his plate, obviously willing it to be suddenly filled with warm, delicious food fresh from the kitchens.

"Slytherin!" exclaimed the sorting hat, and the last first year, Dwayne Zabini joined the long table of snakes.

Finally, food! Thought James, but those hopes were dashed, as the headmaster, Professor Jackson stood up to make a speech.

"Now, everyone! I welcome all of you to Hogwarts! I have a few rules to remind you of, before an important announcement! Now, the forbidden forest-" James found himself drifting off once more, as Professor Jackson droned on about out of bounds places, and forbidden items, and Triwizard Tournaments, and- wait, "Triwizard Tournament?!"

The whole school stared at James, who realised too late that he had shouted the words out loud.

"Thank you, Mr Potter. As I was saying," the headmaster continued, a smile flickering on his face, "I am pleased to announce-for anyone who wasn't listening the first time-" he stared pointedly at James- "that the Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this very year! The hall erupted into excited whispers

"I understand that a few of you may be wary of entering this contest because of the tragic death the last time the tournament was attempted, but I can assure you that there will be no chance if death in this tournament, in fact the only reason that the student died last time was that You Know Who murdered him, and since he who must not be named is dead, there is no need to worry."

James sighed. Of course everyone in the hall was staring at him, Albus and Lily again. Their dad was probably the most famous person in the wizarding world, so James was used to being stared at. He pretended to enjoy the limelight, but if he was honest, it really was annoying being a celebrity for something his parents did. He did get discounts off Honeydukes sweets sometimes though...

Luckily Professor Jackson came to the rescue. "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at Hogwarts in October with their short-listed contenders, and I'm sure you will make them welcome. An impartial judge will select the three school champions on Halloween."

Beauxbatons? That was where James' cousin Dominique went. She transferred from Hogwarts several years ago for reasons unknown, and she had been staying with her aunt Gabrielle for most holidays. James only saw her during the summer, and she hadn't one over this year, but he and Dominique seemed to get along well because they shared a slightly rebellious streak. He wondered if she would enter the tournament. He knew that his aunt Fleur had been the Beauxbatons champion. If Viktor Krum's son enters, I will demand an explanation. James thought.

"And now you may tuck in!" the headmaster proclaimed. Food sprang up out of nowhere, and filled the Gryffindor table to bursting. Finally.

James noticed his brother Albus watching him, eyes narrowed.  
"You're not considering entering, are you?" he asked worriedly.  
"What do you think?!" asked James grinning. Of course he was going to enter! He had heard so many stories from his father about this, and it sounded great. Obviously, his parents would refuse to let him enter, but there wasn't much they could do about it was there?

Anyway, his mum would probably be supportive of it; she was the famous sports reporter and Quidditch player now after all.

Then James remembered what his dad had said to him before he had boarded the train at Kings Cross that morning.

"James," he had said, grabbing his arm before James could run off and join his friends. "Promise me that you won't do anything stupid this year. That you won't make any rash decisions that you will regret."

James, thinking his dad meant not to pull any pranks or something boring like that shrugged, and hurriedly promised Harry (crossing his fingers behind his back of course), before jumping onto the train just as it started moving.

Now James knew why his dad had made him promise not to do anything stupid. And he was so glad he had crossed his fingers when he had. Anyway, this wasn't stupid and rash was it? It was a way for him to prove himself as someone who wasn't just 'Harry Potter's kid'.

For the weeks that followed, the only thing that people talked about was the Triwizard tournament. In the corridors, in the classrooms, in the common room, in the hall, all James could hear was "are you entering?" and "what are you wearing to the Yule ball?" and "I bet you so and so will win".

That evening, James sent a note to Dominique, knowing she might need some persuading to enter the tournament.

He received a reply later, from his tired and irritable looking snowy owl, Hedwig (named after his dad's old owl).

James,

Of course I am entering! I assume you and Fred are too, so I hope to see you soon. I'm just warning you though; I will slaughter you, so watch out!  
Send my love to Fred and the others.

Dominique

James showed the letter to Fred, and after scribbling a reply, they settled down into a game of wizard's chess.

Lessons started the next day, and soon James was immersed in studies for his exams. The professors seemed to have doubled the homework this year, and soon, James was so weighed down with the amount of work, that he almost forgot about the tournament. This was impossible though, because of the constant buzz of anticipation and excitement that radiated from the students and teachers, as October drew nearer.

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**There you go. Reviews? They would be very awesome and merit a lot of gratitude. And virtual cookies, cake etc. if you like.**


	4. Scorpius 1

**Hey, sorry that this wasn't put up earlier; I was going to publish it yesterday but fanfiction wouldn't let me upload any documents. Aaaaanyway, it's the first Scorpius chapter. I know it seems like all the chapters are just introducing new characters at the moment, but we have seven POVs for this story. I'm not writing a Rose one for a few chapters, but that means two more introductory chapters soon then another one later.**

**Reviews would be very awesome indeed, even if they're really short.**

**Disclaimer - *insert very witty message declaring none of us own Harry Potter here***

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Of course the huddle of girls nearby was discussing the Triwizard Tournament. It was all anybody seemed to discuss these days: who was going to enter, who the champions would be, whether any notably hot boys would be coming with the delegations. Even the elderly Madam Pince seemed unable to stop it, so Scorpius could hear them producing the usual chatter as he sat down at his usual table in the library, throwing his Hufflepuff scarf over the chair and hefting his bag of fresh homework onto the table; now that he was a fifth year he had, for the duration of the day, been unable to tell the difference between the weight of his overflowing schoolbag and the weight of a sack of bricks. In fact it seemed that everyone in his year could do little more than wish they were old enough to enter themselves, not least because they'd be exempt from exams and, by extension, from at least some of the pressure from each new wave of work.

Scorpius doubted he'd be picked even if he could enter though. Leastways, if he did it would cause a minor scandal. Or maybe a more-than-minor one. He wouldn't be surprised if protesting mobs formed against the Malfoy heir being the Hogwarts champion. In any case, out of the people in his year someone like Rose Weasley would be much more appropriate. She had all of her mother's brains – heck, she must've had them, they'd got her into Ravenclaw – which could only be a good thing and besides, she seemed plucky and strong enough to cope with it (well, she was a _Weasley_ for heaven's sake). Not to mention kind, pretty... _oh, shut up_ Scorpius quickly berated himself, _like_ _that would help get her in._ But then, Rose Weasley was in his year, and like him only fifteen so there was no way she'd even be able to enter. He wouldn't be surprised if one of her cousins became champion though – she had enough of them. And they all seemed like eligible candidates.

The Tournament would be perfect for his own cousin he was sure – well, technically they were second cousins but Teddy had always said genealogy was boring and just referred to them as cousins. Teddy seemed like just the kind of person who would be a good champion, but he was a teacher as of this year, so he was the wrong age too. Scorpius was sure he'd be a good teacher though; it wouldn't be hard for him to become Scorpius' favourite. Even better, he was a metamorphmagus, which was just downright cool.

Whatever happened, Scorpius didn't doubt Hogwarts would produce a decent champion, no doubt from the swathes of Weasleys, Potters, various other war heroes' children and popular people, that kind of person. If not one of the obvious choices, then definitely someone good.

Sighing at the daunting spread on the table, Scorpius turned to rife through the papers spilled out of his bag. Another two foot essay and it was only the first week of term. Brilliant. Ah well. He'd better get it done or there was no way he'd come out of the year with satisfactory O.W.L.s.

"You're Scorpius Malfoy,"

"Wh-," Scorpius looked up suddenly to find an even-featured young boy whom he vaguely recognised from his family's dinner parties and that year's sorting sitting at his table, apparently not with any thoughts towards doing any work himself. _Well if he's first year and my family know him, it would explain why he's not avoiding me like the plague, _Scorpius reasoned. A significant proportion of the student body that knew his name or saw his family in his face seemed to want to do just that. But of course other people would want to because he was a Hufflepuff, and hadn't upheld the tradition of his family.

"Yes, I am," Scorpius thought the boy was his father's friend Blaise's son Dwayne, a Slytherin, just like most of the _proper_ Malfoys.

"You know my brother," he continued, unfazed by the older boy's hesitation.

"So do you," Scorpius' acquaintance with the seventh-year Kurtis Zabini was, at best, a minor annoyance.

"He says you're a blood traitor," matter-of-fact, but not accusatory.

Well, wasn't that a surprise? "Why, because I'm a Hufflepuff?"

"Oh no," Dwayne shook his head "he says you're a Hufflepuff _because_ you're a blood traitor, and your house just shows the truth,"

Scorpius had doubts about whether this conversation was actually going to go anywhere, and turned hopefully back to his essay.

"Why _are _you a Hufflepuff?" the voice piped up again.

"Uh. Because I'm patient, true and unafraid of toil," he remembered the first time he had heard that description of Hufflepuff, when he had been five years old or thereabouts and his father had been mocking the house. Since he had been sorted there hadn't been any more mocking but the awkward hiccups in conversation when Scorpius knew that what _would_ have been said if he had been put in Slytherin would have been significantly different still hadn't gone away.

"So not because you're a blood traitor, then?"

He looked back up from the sparsely-written-on page. Presumably Dwayne had taken him seriously "Erm, I guess not, no,"

"_Are _you a blood traitor?"

His chances of finishing the full two feet before he went to bed that evening seemed to be wearing thinner. And what was he supposed to say to that anyway?

"I don't know," he tried, wondering why. Normally he would've given a much simpler answer, probably just a 'no' to avoid getting into a discussion. But then normally he wouldn't be having this conversation, so he couldn't know what he'd _normally_ say. Maybe he really would always say that. But then _ideally_ he would've just given a 'no'. A lie, he supposed. Presumably being stupidly honest just came of being in the most non-Malfoy house in the school. _Oh shut up about your house. It's not even like everyone in the school avoids you like the plague _– the words sounded stupid now he repeated them. Hufflepuff was a good house anyway. _Teddy_ had been in it. And at least one or two Weasleys. Surely, surely it didn't matter that his parents had their shabbily-disguised disappointment in it–

"How can you _not know?_" Zabini was talking to him again "My brother reckons he knows whether _everyone's_ a blood traitor, or -"

Scorpius didn't doubt that at all. "So do _you_ think I'm a blood traitor?"

That earned him a funny look "I don't know. Why did you think I was asking you? I just know that _I'm _not,"

This was getting increasingly pointless; in a minute Scorpius would have to get on with his homework whether the other boy stuck around or not. "And if I'm not, that would mean...?"

"I don't know, I was only asking. It's just, my brother doesn't like blood traitors, but you _are _a Malfoy so..."

A pause. If the older Zabini had been talking that would have been worded a shade differently and Scorpius would have been sure it was a thinly veiled threat, but he wasn't at all sure about the younger brother.

"Right," said brother piped up again "Well it was nice meeting you Scorpius. If you ever do work it out..."

"Well. Er, thanks..." the boy was leaving before Scorpius had finished speaking, leaving him in much-needed but unwelcome peace with the pile of work.

He did, somehow, manage to finish the essay and make a start on a second one that evening (_comes of being a Hufflepuff_, he couldn't help but think again), but not before hearing dozens of people passing and declaring that they (or, sometimes, their current romantic interest) was _bound_ to be chosen as Hogwarts champion. By the time he left for bed, he had acquired knowledge of who at least thirty people would be asking to the Yule Ball, a headache starting behind his eyes, and a bag that felt even fuller and heavier than it had done before.

It was only as he was leaving that a flurry of Ravenclaws burst into the library, Rose Weasley among them exchanging a careless 'hi' with him, before running to tear the books she needed off the shelves, her hair pulled back in a messy, bushy ponytail and her eyes frantic. As Scorpius walked back away towards his common room, her friends' proceeded to laugh and then tried to help her, while she shouted something barely intelligible about 'stupid homework', all of their voices carrying back towards him through the corridor.

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**That's done :) reveiwreviewreviewreviewrevi ew?**


	5. Rogerina 1

**This chapter's written by our friend Hattie, and she'll write her ANs, so here she is:**

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**Hey guys, it's fanfiction-accountless author Hattie here! I'll be writing our OC, Rogerina (anyone get that? :P) and no-one else, currently.**

**I'm really sorry for the long wait, my stupid technology deleted the first chapter I wrote so I had to re-write it (grrr)!**

**Reviews are very very much appreciated :)**

**Enjoy!**

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Assorted objects flew across the room as Rogerina Lobachevsky frantically searched for her wand. It had disappeared and she only had an hour before she was picked up to go back to Durmstrang, where she was about to begin her sixth year.

There was nothing unusual about the wand itself: eight and a half inches, willow and quite springy, with a core of dragon heartstring. Made by the wand maker Peyolov, an apprentice of Gregorivich, who had taken over and regenerated his late master's business two years after Voldemort had been killed by Harry Potter. To Rogerina, though, the loss of her wand was the end if the world- without it she wouldn't be able to resume her studies at Durmstrang or continue with her favourite subject; Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Pausing only to curse, Rogerina continued her search. Drawers were emptied and flat surfaces scoured, their contents flung on to the fast growing pile of random items on her floor. Rogerina sighed frustratedly and flicked her long blonde hair out of her eyes. Where was that wand? Why had it disappeared now? What on earth was she going to do if her ward arrived and she didn't have a wand?

To get to Durmstrang, students were picked up by specialist witches and wizards called Wards. It was their job to make sure each student arrived on time, in the right place and safe. Even though the school was protected by charms, an anti-apparition charm wasn't one, so students were usually apparated into the grounds, apart from a few exceptions, who turned up on brooms. Rogerina's ward was to arrive at two minutes past eleven, and it was currently half past ten.

There was still no sign of the wand.

"Roggie?" her Mother called up the stairs in a thick Bulgarian accent. "Are you nearly ready? You realise you have half an hour, darling, and you still haven't picked up your wand! It's been staring at me from the sideboard all morning, you're not going to forget it are you..."

Her words were cut off by the sound of Rogerina charging down the stair to collect her missing wand. Scooping it up from the sideboard, Rogerina began to scold it for disappearing, not caring that it was an inanimate object and couldn't reply or comprehend her words. Shaking her head, Rogerina's mother stuck her head around the door

"I suppose you didn't know it was there." it wasn't a question, Natalya Lobachevsky knew her daughter's typically unorganised nature.

"No-"

"Well never mind, go and get your trunk now. From the size of it, it'll take you half and hour to drag it down the stairs!"

Fair point, thought Rogerina as she trudged back up the stairs to where her huge trunk lay waiting, stuffed full to bursting with all manner of magical items.

Although her mother was Bulgarian, Rogerina's father was English and she had spent the fist seven years of her life there. They had been in hiding after a tip off that the Dark Lord was after them and hadn't come out of hiding for quite some time after the end of the war because most people had forgotten about them, so they were never told. An unfortunate error at the time. For this reason, Rogerina had an English accent, and therefore spoke Bulgarian with a slight English lilt. This, combined with her unusual golden-blonde hair, pale complexion and deep blue eyes, made her an outsider at Durmstrang and a source of constant teasing. That fact didn't get in Rogerina's way, though, she was determined to fit in and do well at school, damn anyone who was against her or got in her way.

Rogerina slammed the lid of her over-filled trunk shut and commenced to haul it out of her bedroom.

"Gluposti!" Rogerina swore as the heavy trunk scooted forward on it's wheels, running over her foot and beginning to progress down the stairs with a thunk sound, slamming into an official looking witch who was just walking past the stairway. Rogerina followed her trunk down the stairs.

"Um..." she looked apprehensively at the tall witch, who had just got back up and was swaying slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm quite alright. A little bit of a shock that's all." The witch replied in icy Bulgarian, "you would be Rogerina Lobachevsky I suppose." She didn't wait for a reply, "say goodbye to your family and them come outside with your trunk. You have five minutes, I'm on a tight schedule." The witch eyed the trunk with suspicion, as if she was expecting it to explode at any moment, before turning on her heal and marching back outside.

"Grumpy." Rogerina muttered, she left the hallway for the lounge, where Natalya sat in a green velvet armchair.

"Are you off, Rog?"

"Yes, Mum. Apparently I have five minutes, my ward isn't in the best of moods, I accidentally attacked her with my trunk."

Natalya chuckled "only you, Rog, only you. I'm pretty sure you inherited your clumsy gene from your Father, he was late for work again this morning you know. He spilt coffee on his brand new robes, I don't know what I'm going to do with that man, I mean-"

"Mum! This is all very nice, but I only have five, wait no, three minutes before I have to go off with Mrs Sour Lemon!"

"Sorry, dear"

"I should probably go now-"

"Yes, you probably should." Natalya seemed slightly preoccupied; resigned to the fact that her daughter was leaving once again and she wouldn't see her until Christmas.

Rogerina chewed her lip. She knew how her Mother hated having no contact, except letters, with her only child. Home schooling wasn't an option, though- both parents had full time jobs and both knew that Rogerina would get better opportunities at school anyway, but it was still hard saying goodbye.

"I'll see you at Christmas, Mum." Rogerina broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Ok, dear" came Natalya's reply, "write every day- I want to know all the gossip!"

She stood up from her chair and engulfed her daughter into a hug. It lasted for a long time, Natalya finally broke the hug and held Rogerina at arms length.

"You should be off, darling."

"You're right. I don't want to make the ward even angrier- you never know, she might 'accidentally' apparate me three miles outside of the grounds an then force me to walk."

Natalya laughed lightly "Well we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"It wouldn't be ideal."

"Bye Roggie. Have a good term!"

"Will do, Mum, bye."

Rogerina turned around and slowly walked out of the room, down the hall and out of the front door, where her ward was waiting. She looked even more unhappy than before, her lips were pursed into a tight line and her eyes narrowed.

"I don't believe I have introduced myself. My name is Miss Demska. I took the liberty of levitating your trunk outside, you seemed as though you were going to use the five minutes to their maximum." sure enough, Rogerina's trunk was floating dutifully beside Miss Demska's left shoulder. "Shall we proceed?"

Rogerina nodded, from the look on her ward's face, any noise would not be at all welcome. Best to play safe, seeing as she had already inflicted a few bruises on Miss Demska.

The green-robed witch began to march in the direction of the field on the horizon, in front of the Lobachevsky's modest cottage. Rogerina hurried after her, pausing briefly to check the trunk was following. It was, bobbing behind them like some kind of balloon.

Due to the witch's brisk pace, the unlikely trio reached the field quicker than you could say 'quidditch.' Miss Demska stuck out her arm.

"Hold on, Miss Lobachevsky,"she said in a commanding tone.

Rogerina obliged and was almost immediately thrown into blackness as she was apparated to Durmstrang. This was a journey Rogerina had always hated- her life was in the hands of a witch who seemed to hate her and she couldn't breathe.

Thud!

They hit the ground in the same position as the had begun. Miss Demska was quick to extricate herself from Rogerina's tight grip.

"I'm sure you've been through this enough times to know where you have to go. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other students to attend to and I'm two minutes behind schedule." Miss Demska stated shortly.

"Yes. It's my sixth year, I know where to go." Rogerina replied and then remembered her manners. "Thank you for taking me Miss Demsma."

The said witch pursed her lips again and turned on her heal, stalking back into the gathering dusk. Disapperating with a small pop, she disappeared, leaving Rogerina to make her way to Durmstrang alone.


End file.
